


wait for after

by altinbar



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Hange Zoë Is A Little Shit, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Not Beta Read, Other, Return to Shiganshina Arc Spoilers (Shingeki no Kyojin), S3 spoilers, Unrequited Love, do porn magazines exist in aot universe?, fighting titans, hange zoe backstory, hange zoe is a nerd, hange zoe is wreckless, i decided they do, kind of, minor description of battles, moblit berner is done, not really though??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altinbar/pseuds/altinbar
Summary: “Thank you, Moblit.” It sounded genuine. “I needed that. Save the rest for when we’re free, k?” They grinned cheekily. “Save it for after.”
Relationships: Moblit Berner & Hange Zoë, Moblit Berner/Hange Zoë
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	wait for after

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhh here u go i hope this is good?!?!?! thank u for reading :)

Moblit lives by a simple code of Hange. Has for as long as he can remember knowing them, actually. He’s always been the… rational one of the two, though that isn’t exactly a difficult feat, so he hates to admit it but, it really was almost love at first sight. Well, infatuation, at least. Again, not a difficult feat, when you first lay eyes on the brunette sprawled over two desks’ space in the barracks, cheeks flushing and eyes gleaming with excitement as they pored over numerous books, and illustrations, and notes, and whatever information they could possibly get their hands on.

“Woah,” Moblit murmured in admiration, “Where’d you get all that?” He half whispered.

Suddenly sitting up at the intrusion, simultaneously scrambling to slam the covers of all the books surrounding them, Hange gasped. Their complexion reddened further. “What are you doing here?! Who are you?!” They demanded, and then, as if remembering something, “Nowhere. I mean, uhh. The unrestricted section of the library.” They looked pleased with themself, though Moblit couldn’t see why, when he could see straight through their lie. “Yeah.. The totally normal library.” Stroking the covers of an old looking book they held to their chest, they suddenly snapped out of their dreaminess. “Say, why do you wanna know anyway?” They inquired accusatively, eyeing Moblit suspiciously.

“Looks cool. Interesting.” He shrugged in return.

Hange smiled, looking glazed again. “Yeah…” They had a tendency to slip into an enchanted state and drag out their vowels, looking off into the distance or staring intently into the covers of one of the books on the table. It was.. Weirdly endearing, he realised, when he lay in bed that night unable to wipe the look from his mind's eye. He was almost sad to see the stranger have to snap out of it so frequently. “Anyway. I had questions. You got answers or what?”

“I- wh- huh?” Moblit stood stunned in the doorway. He hadn’t been staring, what? Him? Nooooo. Hange sighed, smoothing out what appeared to be anatomical sketches of titans.

“What are you doing here? Who are you? If you recall, you rudely interrupted my study session,” Hange said, sparing Moblit a side-eye glance as they re-organised the papers. He recognised a teasing lilt in their voice. 

“Ah, Moblit Berner. I’m… here to study?”

“You don’t sound so sure of that.”

Moblit flushed, rubbing his hand to the back of his neck, and laughed nervously. In response, Hange cautiously surveyed the room before peeking behind Moblit’s form in the doorway.

“Look, Moblit, was it?” They hissed. He nodded. “I like you, so I’m gonna let you in on my secret. Shut the door.” Quickly, Moblit jumped to the task at hand. Hange patted the empty space beside them on the bench they were sat to, and Moblit once again complied. They took a deep breath of preparation, then revealed: “These books.. Aren’t from the unrestricted-normal-not-at-all-suspicious library.”

“Wow,” Moblit dead panned, to which Hange responded with a smack of a book to the head. “Ow?”

“Can it, Berner. You wanna know my top-secret intel or not?” They threatened, still lording the book above his crown.

“Yes!” He swore.

“They’re from the Commander’s section,” They declared smugly. “Scandalous, right? I snuck in last night. Been hiding them under my mattress like dirty books.” They smiled this brazen, proud smile and Moblit found it hard to control the way his face lit up like flames.

“Aaah, Berner, now I know where your stash is, eh?”

“N-no! It’s not like that!”

“Awwww, don’t be like that, Moblit, it’s rude not to share, you know!” They cooed, to which Moblit buried his increasingly crimson face in his hands. Hange’s maniacal laughter was, at this first instance, like an arrow to his heart. Still is, he guesses. When he looked up, he was disappointed to see that Hange was rolling their sketches up, and slotting the dusty books into their satchel, still wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of their eye.

“You’re going already?” He asked, unable to mask the touch of despondency that bled through into his tone.

“‘Fraid so. It’s getting pretty late, people will be wondering where I am… Wouldn’t want anyone snooping… you know,” They smiled apologetically. “Well-”

“Wait uh- I never got your name!” Moblit declared, as they stand up from the desk, smoothing their white pants down.

Smiling warmly, the then stranger beamed warmly. “Hange Zoe. Pleasure to meet you.” Moblit took the hand, stunned into quiet disbelief by the radiant vision before him, let it vigorously shake his own, offered a trembling smile of his own, before Hange turned their back to him and strode briskly towards the door. He barely managed to get his words out, and Hange was swinging the study room door open before me managed to stammer-

“H-Hange!”

“Hmm?” They turn to face him again.

“S-Study with me again? Tomorrow?”

They grin. 

“Maybe.” And off they ran into the pleasant dusk, leaving the wooden door swaying softly in the gentle breeze. Moblit watched the empty space for approximately three and a half minutes before he realised he had got it bad.

He had to track them down the next day. He tried everywhere: he searched during ODM practice, reaching higher into the treetops than necessary for the best possible view, but couldn’t spot them whizzing through the training ground; when they were commanded to buddy up for hand to hand combat he scoured the crowd for them, but they were nowhere to be seen; he even peered over the sea of heads at the mess hall tables for the brunette’s ponytail at dinner, but he failed yet again. After eating a less than satisfying meal, he resigned himself to moping around in the summer evening. He was perched on the ledge of a monument, kicking loose stones on the ground, generally just moping, when a pair of muddy boots appeared next to his, copying their movements, and a satchel was dumped next to him.

“What are we sulking about?” Hange whispered. Moblit made a hmph sound, turning his head stubbornly away from them, despite having wanted desperately to see them all day. “Aww, come on Moblit!”

“Hmph.”

“C’mon. Cat got your tongue? Your dirty books?”

“Hmph.” As weight shifted off of the ledge next to him, Moblit worried that Hange was going to leave again. He looked up quickly when the silence lasted a moment too long, only to find Hange rummaging through their satchel, poking their pink tongue between rosy lips in concentration. “..What are you doing?” he mumbled, having to inject some forced reluctance into his voice despite his growing excitement as Hange thrusted a scroll into his lap.

“Here,” They explained. “Bunked off duties today to copy up some sketches and notes for our study session.” Their feet shifted weight back and forth as their cheeks took on a red hue. “So you better bring them!” They reminded him sternly. “Tomorrow! Same place as yesterday! I’ll spill all the juicy information I got!”

Now, he looks back on those study sessions fondly. They were so young- still training, can you believe- and so naive, still with so much to learn. Hange’s passion was, and still is, the most inspiring, driving force that led to him being who he is today. Honestly, he doesn’t think he would have made it if it wasn’t for them. Probably would’ve given up in fear and cowered in front of the first titan he saw rather than look up in awe, sizing it up to the diagrams they had meticulously examined, paring the measurements to the different classes that swarmed the lush green beyond the walls. It was in those study sessions that Moblit found what he was fighting for. 

“Say, Moblit,” Hange pondered a few years later, nibbling the end of a pencil. They frowned at a page of notes in front of them.

“Yeah?” He mumbled, taking the parchment from their hands and reading over the scrawled words. “Ah-” He exclaimed. As soon as he recognised his own school girl scribbles, he crumpled the yellowing sheet, stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket that had been strewn on the grass next to him. He convinced himself Hange would think the hearts were platonic. “Y-you were saying?”

Hange frowned for a moment more, then shook their head. “Do you ever.. Have your doubts? About why we do this?” They asked. They dipped their head, as if ashamed, or nervous, or some other expression that was unrecognisable on Hange’s face. Moblit tried to gauge just what they were feeling, but ended up distracted by the way the orange sun began to sink, illuminating their profile like a renaissance subject.

“What do you mean by this?” Moblit inquired.

“I mean-” Change wringed their hands, brought them closer to their face, then dropped them back into their lap in dismay. “All of it. Why do we bother to fight? Why do we try and learn when- when in hundreds of years, we haven’t made any progress-”

“Hey,” Moblit interrupted softly.

“Sorry,” Hange muttered. “Guess I’m just… I don’t know.” They pause. Then speak in an even softer, smaller voice. “Scared.”

“Hange, while I would love nothing more than for me and you to be safe… Maybe in a little house in the interior, where we live comfortably, and we know all the neighbours… Oh, and we eat plentifully, of course- and we’re safe and can retire early-”

Hange giggled softly. Startling a little, Moblit realised just how close he had leaned towards them. “Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” Hange asked with mock innocence.

“Right,” Moblit chuckled, cheeks red. “Right. Well, as much as I would like that… that safety… I think what I want, no, what I need, is freedom. And the truth, I guess. Less for myself but, more for you.” Moblit went quiet, began closing the little space left between them. “I guess, what I’m trying to say, Hange, is that I fight for you.”

Hange pressed a firm hand against his chest. Scooted back away from him on the grass. Laughed, even if it seemed forced and nervous. Moblet blushed crimson.

“O-Oh! Oh, uh-” Trying to force the words out, Moblit just ended up stuttering like a fool. Hange offered him that smile, that special way of uptuning the corners of their lips that was reserved just for him, and pushed themselves back up to their feet.

“Thank you, Moblit.” It sounded genuine. “I needed that. Save the rest for when we’re free, k?” They grinned cheekily. “Save it for after.”

So he tries his best to save it. But, look, it’s not easy, when Hange reciprocates those puppy-dog-looks that he can’t help but throw their way sometimes, or when they fall asleep during lectures with their head lolling peacefully on Moblit’s shoulder, or when they find themselves talking in Hange’s private quarters into the small hours of the nights, and they get to talking about their future, and they both lean, leaning, snap back to reality, or when there are those near misses on the battlefield-

“HANGE! LOOK OUT!” Moblit bellowed. He anchored to the nape of a 7m class and slashed, but his eyes stayed locked on the brunette. “HANGE!” Pink cheeked, they finally turned away from the 5m abnormal they were fascinated by that was running itself in a frantic circle, arms and head flailing pathetically behind it’s bulbous body. Glossy eyes tracked Moblit behind glasses- and a giant hand snatched Hange from the ground, squeezing a panicked yelp from their throat. In their agitation, they lost sight of Moblit.

“Moblit!” They screamed, attempting in a moment of desperation to stab at the creatures fists with their blades, to little avail. It brought it’s ugly fist closer to it’s repulsive head. Hange struggled in its grip. In a moment of inspiration, they forced a blade through the massive beady eye that stared nauseatingly into their own. Despite the shower of blood that rained down over Hange, it acted as little deterrent. They were left only with the option of pushing back against its teeth, refusing to be forced into the beast's mouth when- it’s grip went lax. They felt it’s legs slump to the ground. The tell tale whizz of ODM gear. An arm around their waist. A familiar voice.

“Moblit,” Hange breathed. “Oh, Moblit-”

“That appears to be all of them, but our supplies have been depleted too much to go on. Retreat! Fall back!” Erwin yelled. In their relief, Hange hadn’t appeared to have noticed the clip-clop of approaching hooves.

“Yes, sir!” Moblit relayed as he set Hange down to the ground. Holding them at shoulder’s length, he scanned their body for the damage.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Moblit, I-”

“Are you okay?” He asked again, half stern, half pleading. Hange barely had time to nod in response before they were pulled into a bear hug that lingered suspiciously. When Moblit pulled back, albeit reluctantly, he had to stop himself from looking at Hange’s face. Wasn’t sure whether he would be able to resist kissing them there and then. Instead, gruffly- “Get on,” as he mounted the horse, instead, settling with their tight grip clinging to his back, instead, this, this is enough, Hange’s alive.

When they get back to the garrison, and his nerves had been settled, he took Hange to the medical unit anyway. Nothing serious- a couple scratches and some bruised ribs- but Moblit ordered them to rest anyway. He brought them soup and soft bread rolls and watched them eat quietly. They finished, he took the tray. They shifted, he re-adjusted the pillows. They winced, he checked the dressings. Change broke the comfortable almost-silence they’d got going on with a sassy, “Not going soft on me yet, are you, Berner?”. They smirked, and re-opened a split in their lip. It took Moblit a moment to respond, and then-

Slap.

Hange sat in stunned silence. Their mouth opened and closed aimlessly for a few moments. 

“What the shit, Moblit?! I am your superior-”

“I am your superior.” Moblit mimicked in a mocking fashion, waving his head around not unlike that titan from earlier, which gave him the convenient excuse to avoid looking at Hange.

“I won’t tolerate insubordination-”

“I won’t tolerate insubordination.”

“I mean it,” Hange glowers dangerously. Moblit rolls his eyes. Barely a superior. Moblit is just so painfully infatuated by them that he would bend over backwards at their will. He had only officially been their assistant for like, what, a week? And they’ve never acted like this before- “I mean it, really! I won’t tolerate-”

“And I won’t tolerate you acting so… so… reckless!” Moblit quips back, unable to meet their eyes still. “It’s stupid, Hange, and you know it! You know it. And- I know, I know, your experiments, capturing titans, but you can’t just- you can’t just. You can’t scare me like that. You can’t get distracted out there. You know?” Finally managing to look up, Moblit felt taken aback. Hange was sat, evidently speechless again, as silent tears began to drip down their cheeks.

“I know,” They whisper thickly. “I’m sorry. I was so… scared. Moblit… I know. I’m sorry.” He nodded. “C’mere,” They breathed as they reached out, then dragged Moblit closer by the collar. They pressed their lips to his forehead. “As a thank you,” They explained, quietly, lips still pressed to his hairline. They inhaled deeply before releasing him. Leaned back quietly and closed their eyes. Moblit stared, wide eyes flitting from Hange’s closed ones, their heavy eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, to their lips, chapped and stark red with cuts. The lines from the window pane casted a shadow just off-centre on their face. He ought to have drawn the curtains. Before he could tear his eyes away to get to the task at hand, one of Hange’s eyelids flitted open.

“That was a one off, by the way,” They rasped. Smirked again.

“Better be careful or that slap won’t be,” Mobilt teased quietly. He drew the curtains but stayed by their bedside.

Moblit looks back on those near misses now. He realises that it’s a reflex rather than a conscious decision, every time. There’s no should he, no weighing up his options. It’s really as if his simple code of Hange is written into him biologically. It’s instinctive. Primal, even. Without them, there’s nothing left to fight for. He loves them. It feels comfortable on his lips, even if he dares only to whisper it at night, alone in bed, or watching Hange slumped over their desk, asleep. It’s as simple as that. He loves them. 

One night, they sit in the grass. Just before their mission to Shiganshina. Moblit had just found Hange hunched over their desk uncomfortably, pulling at their hair that was barely being held back by their ponytail. 

“Moblit,” She had groaned. “Save me. So much paperwork. Seriously, aren’t you meant to help me with this crap?” 

He grinned mercilessly in return, waving the thick stack of documents he had already completed filling in. “Ha, I was just about to turn in my share.” Hange couldn’t muster a smile, instead letting out something between a moan and a cry in exasperation and letting their head fall to the desk with a dull thud. The smug look Moblit had been sporting fell from his face.

“Hey,” He said softly. “Wanna get out for a bit?” Hange looked up and smiled gratefully.

So here they are, settled in the grass just like old days. The evening is pleasantly warm, despite the fact that the marmalade orange sun falling and spreading luxuriously over the horizon. God, it really is like old days. Moblit can’t believe how fast they years had passed, it feels like the same night he had first tried to kiss Hange. It had been at least ten years since then, yet it felt like merely seconds. Like it wasn’t too late for them. 

“Ha,” Hange laughs shortly, softly, pulling Moblit out of his anxious train of thought. “Doesn’t it feel the same as back then?”

“Yeah. Was just thinking the same thing.” The two of them are leaning back on their hands, looking over the cliff edge at the sun set. It never gets old, he realises, the sunset with Hange. Not when they’re both so acutely aware that each one could easily be their last, and not when Moblit is so acutely aware that he and Hange could live together forever and it still wouldn’t be enough time. He looks over to them now. They’re still looking straight ahead. It isn’t that joyful smile from before: they have their lower lip caught between their teeth, and their eyebrows are knitted together, forming creases above their beaked nose. When they catch him looking with a sideward glance, they simply put their own hand- shockingly soft, Moblit thinks- over his, wordlessly.

“You okay?” They breathe.

Moblit doesn’t respond. He knows this next battle is coming, and he knows he will fight with his all. For humanity. For freedom. For Hange. He knows what may be. There’s a sense of finality, this time, one that he doesn’t normally feel. He puts it down to nerves. Instead of responding, facing this dread, he breathes in. The air smells crisp. It’s refreshing, like iced water after intensive training on a hot day, or splashing around in ankle deep river water. He recalls that thing- the ocean, yeah- that a cadet had mentioned. He recalls the way Hange’s face had lit up. He recalls days off with Hange when they were younger, sneaking to the river bank at dusk and stripping to their underclothes to run through the freezing water.

Somewhere far off, the other members of the survey corps are blowing off steam. They’re still running on the high of meat for dinner, whooping and cackling like children. Silence falls, apart from birds in a tree somewhere. Someone is - badly, he thinks - imitating its call. The laughter starts up again; Moblit sees a pair of wings soar past. He chuckles.

“Yeah. Okay,” He says, finally. Hange squeezes his hand. “Are you? Okay?”

“Hmm,” They hum. “Gonna be tough tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” He agrees. He’s looking up at the orange sky. It melts into shades of yellow and pink and red and purple. Scatterings of clouds decorate it. They’re going by in that fast rotational way they have a habit of doing sometimes. It’s dizzying: the smell of the summer evening, the way it feels like this is all going to end soon, too soon, God it’s too soon, Hange’s hot hand on top of his, clammy in a way that strikes him as sweet somehow.

“Yeah. Got me thinkin, I guess.” They take their hand away from his, tossing their head backwards and shaking their hair out as if a lion shaking their mane, and sets to retying their ponytail. They have to take off their glasses. It strikes him that their eyes shine a golden honey yellow in this light. He regrets that he hasn’t noticed before, the amount of times they’ve spent this magic golden hour together. When they finish, they return their hand to its place on top of Moblit as if it’s nothing to make his gut flip and heart stop. As if completely comfortable and natural. Feels like home.

“Oh no. Thinking? Sounds dangerous. Didn’t think you did that,” He teases, smiling a little.

“Yeah. It was. Had me thinking, maybe this is after.”

It isn’t the grand revelation Moblit had expected. The stars don’t suddenly align, his heart doesn’t stop or threaten to fail on him. The world simply goes quiet for a moment. He hears another bird flap one, twice, three times, loudly unsettling the leaves of the tree it perches in. It feels like he’s been here before. He looks over to Hange; they’re confident enough - no, it’s more like comfortable enough - in their revelation to be looking out to the sky, instead of anxiously awaiting his reaction. 

It occurs to him that the stars don’t need to align when they’ve always been set out in this way. The world always meant for them to be together, Moblit smiles, committing Hange’s peaceful side profile to memory. Wisps of their hair get picked up on a breath of breeze every now and then. Their eyes seem to be glowing the same colour as the setting sun, and their lips are ever so slightly parted, taking in agreeable evening air. It’s a picturesque image.

“Yeah,” He agrees. “Maybe it is.”

Hange hums again, seemingly content to return to the homely silence. After a while, they decide to fall backwards, lying down and looking up at the increasingly dim sky. When Moblit doesn’t follow, they clear their throat. He pretends to look around in search of the sound.

“You rascal,” They exclaim, pulling themselves up onto their knees with ease and grabbing Moblit in a sudden and shocking choke hold. He bursts into laughter.

“Rascal? Rascal?” Incredulously, he repeats Hange’s inexplicable choice of insult, trying to pry their muscular arms from around his neck. He’s losing, limbs struggling to find any grip when he’s fighting against peals of laughter, wheezing so hard that no sound can get past his stomach.

“Yeah, you little rascal!” They finish, having wrestled Moblit successfully to the ground with an oomph from the effort. 

“You’re one to talk.”

“I never claimed not to be. I’m a proud rascal. You should accept that part of yourself, Moblit. Then we can proudly live as our authentic rascal selves,” They sigh, pinning Moblit down with their head against his chest. Moblit pretends he’s stuck. Doesn’t really want Hange to move anyway. “Together.” They add, almost tentative, but not quite.

“Together,” He agrees. 

It can’t last, he knows. This perfect dusk will slip into night before they know it, so soon, too soon. He doesn’t want to leave Hange’s side until he absolutely has to. Dreading tomorrow, Molit works up the courage to ask for what they’re both wanting.

“Hange.” They hum. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Tonight, tomorrow, the rest of time,” They answer.

Tonight passes too quickly. Tomorrow arrives too soon. Neither could sleep: spent the whole night quietly looking at one another, looking at the ceiling, looking at the past, trying not to look into the future.

In the morning, they dress in silence. He notices the way that Hange’s hands shake as they struggle to fasten their harness. He helps without them having to ask. Tries not to think about the implications that the one with the most intel is just as nervous as he is. Hopes it’s because they just have more to lose. Hope. It’s all he can do. They eat breakfast together. Moblit barely eats four spoonfuls until he can’t fight the nerves are tying knots in his stomach. As he pushes the bowl away from him, barely able to manage the smell, he sends Hange a reassuring smile, even though he can feel his lips twitch and wobble. They try to offer one back. He’s always been the more convincing liar.

Finally, they’re alone again, in the stables. They’re tacking up their horses. The silence feels nervous and uncomfortable, and he thinks the animals can sense it, because his horse starts to spook. Hange presses a firm but gentle hound to its snout and it settles almost immediately. He’s just about to mount when he realises Hange has been standing, doing nothing, for nearly a full minute.

“Okay?” He manages, voice breaking a little. They nod, nearly imperceivable. He isn’t sure how, but then his arms are around their entire body in a bone crushing hug, and Hange’s grip around his neck is just as tight. When they reluctantly break apart, he smooths down their green cloak, adjusting the hood so he can see their eyes. The green suits them, he thinks, then wonders why he notices these absurd details at a time like this. Brings out their eyes.

“Moblit?”

“Hange?” They both begin at the same time. “Ah,” He says sheepishly, “You first.” They nod, take in a deep breath. The air is thick with straw, the smell of cleaning wax from the saddles. They’re leaning, eyes closed, and Moblit doesn’t even have to think, his eyes are fluttering closed and his lips are pressing against Hange, softly, slowly, and it’s over, too soon, it’s always too soon and-

“I love you.” And he’s shocked to see the words are tumbling from Hange’s mouth, glistening with saliva, and not his.

“I love you,” He agrees. Smooths their cloak again. Mounts his horse.

It’s sunset, Moblit thinks. They’re fighting, and it’s that yellow-orange light again, it’s always that yellow-orange light with Hange- but, they were just fighting. Time, for once, feels like it’s slowing to a stop. He’s not, he realises, sitting in the grass with them. He’s suspended mid air, and it feels like time isn’t moving somehow, or if it is, it’s moving very slowly. But there’s warm, orange light behind him, almost- no, hot, unpleasantly hot, like a strike of lightning, but my god, beauty is pain. His fingers are slowly releasing their grip on the ODM gear. It’s no use to him now.

Hange.

They’re flying too. Looking behind him, their face slowly contorts into a war-cry, like a statue carved from marble of a roman general. They’re screaming something; he wishes he could hear. It’s all a blur of forest green hood and honey yellow eyes from behind the glare of their glasses. He wishes he could hear. He wishes he knew what was going on. 

But Moblit lives by a simple code of Hange. Maybe that’s why it’s so easy for his arm to reach out for them. He could be selfish, could easily pull them in for the embrace he had longed for, be together to make up for all those years he had been cheated of. But it’s a simple code, almost biological. He pushes them away. Accepts the yellow orange light. Dies by his code.


End file.
